


Cycling

by plunderer01



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Gen, Psychology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 05:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plunderer01/pseuds/plunderer01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can put up with disappointment for only so long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cycling

Dib hated feeling like this, especially so close to an exam.

He sighed and slid both his hands through his hair, resting his elbows on his desk. It was going to be almost impossible to be productive now, as fighting it took more energy than just riding it out. He had hoped to have left it behind, like the many _other_ disappointments in his life. But of course he was _Dib_ , so like some sick cosmic joke, not even his own psyche wanted to be free of pain. It had to just eat away at him, rearing it's ugly head so often that is became impossible to ignore the older he became.

But he could never tell _them_. They would both scoff at him, in their own particular ways. _He'd_ simply repeat the same phrase he had heard since he was ten. _She'd_ just dismiss it coldly, just like all the other legitimate problems he's ever had.

God, he missed being young. He had loved the thrill of discovery, of learning, and even of the occasional triumph. Then, he was himself. Or at least what he thought he _should_ be. He felt good all the time then. Well most of the time anyway, and at the very least he felt even. Now the closest he could ever get to his childhood temperament was during the rare yet invigorating bursts of boundless creativity, excitement with the drive to match; he honestly felt like a million bucks during those times. But as short as they were, they were punctuated by even longer periods of self-loathing and melancholy. At first Dib thought the trade-off was worth it. However, as time progressed, he discovered that the lapses became more dramatic, more recognizable, and more intolerable.

Looking back on his childhood, he was surprised to even remember any sort of happiness. But it was there, and although there wasn't a lot of it, what was there was real; he was honestly thankful for that small mercy. Ironically, the majority of that came from his own enemy. The creature that wanted to hurt him, that wanted to torture him, and that occasionally wanted to kill him.

Dib laughed a little bitterly. There was only one difference between Gaz and Zim.

Zim made him happy.

But, of course, not in the way most people would define happiness. Conflict was all Dib knew and understood having grown up with it. After awhile, he came to realize that was also all _Zim_ knew, all he was programmed to pursue by his own people. When they both engaged in that conflict, they were content. They were focused. They were happy.

They were exactly the same.

And like the best of friends, Zim and Dib had so very much in common. It was expected that the fates did not see fit to have them actually _be_ friends. Dib reasoned that in this life, he didn't deserve them for whatever reason. Why else would he be so alone? Sure, he was a rather aloof individual, but he wasn't _unfriendly_ to anybody. He was pretty sure he wasn't arrogant. So although he wasn't superstitious, he had subconsciously accepted the fact that some unnatural power beyond his control had declared him alone for the rest of his life.

Except with Zim, he was alone. His father was the obvious first consideration; Dib wondered why he had any children at all. It was one thing to be busy with a job, it was another altogether to be obsessed with it. He had really loved his father. And he still did, to a degree. But the ups and downs and disappointment after disappointment had made Dib a little cold and calloused towards him. The trust was gone and his dad didn't seem to value it anyway. He was oblivious, living in _his_ own world. The world of science.

Dib smiled humorlessly. His father might have been a genius, but he was just as clueless as everyone else.

And sometimes he wondered if the pain would be less if he had never known him at all. He wondered if he had been ignorant of his father's potential as a parent, he would have been happier. The line was fine, indeed. But he was no longer angry at his dad. He pitied him, actually. All his efforts into making the world a better place and not a single one of those morons will remember his name after a few years. Professor Membrane wanted admiration and love so badly he overlooked the most important people that could have given it to him.

His father was an idiot.

And then there was Gaz, his dear sister. He could barely even think those words with a straight face, let alone _say_ them.

Their relationship would have been a joke, if they even had one anymore. Dib could allow her a pass for _some_ of her behavior as a child. After all, they had been 'raised' by the same man, and she undoubtedly had been affected as much as he had. Although she had mostly grown out of it by the time she was thirteen, he knew the reason she hit him was due to her inner frustration with their (lack of) home life. But that didn't make it right, and at some point she should have realized that her struggle with her psychological problems should have had little to do with him. She didn't want to deal with anything. She wanted to escape, burying herself in an electronic world, ignoring Dib, and only loving the one person that didn't deserve it.

Heck, they were in the same boat. They should have bonded. They should have been close, or at least sympathetic to one another. But all she could give was the same thing he received in school, by society, and from Zim. But at least Zim had a certain respect for him, a respect that no one else has since shown.

The only really positive thing he could say about Gaz was that she never teased him with promises of love, nor with displays of it. She was a constant, albeit a negative one, and predictable. She was what never could be, but their father was something that _could_ have been.

So when Zim suddenly disappeared during his first year of high skool, Dib was at a loss. He didn't know what to do. He had nothing to occupy him; there was nothing to accomplish anymore. Dib had scanned transmissions in the sky for months afterward, and there was nothing. In desperation, he had attempted to prove or disprove other paranormal phenomenon, but the reactions he got from others and the SEN were always discouraging. So one day, he did something he never thought he would do. He quit pursuing the paranormal.

He didn't tell the SEN. He didn't tell his father. He just stopped. He wanted to see if anybody would notice. He waited for a long time.

Then, almost eight months later, Agent Darkbooty showed up on his doorstep.

"Dib, where have you been? We haven't heard from you in awhile."

"I thought that would be a good thing, for you." he said with a bit of vehemence.

Darkbooty looked a little hurt. "That's not...true."

"Oh, yes it is. You and the others would shoot me down every chance you got. I know you helped me that one time, and I appreciate that. But that wasn't enough. I'm tired of getting jerked around by you and the SEN. I get enough of that here. You know what? I just don't care anymore."

Darkbooty opened his mouth to say more, but Dib cut him off.

"I'm sorry. Please just leave."

Then he closed the door.

* * *

So here he was today, much older, and trapped in the same vicious cycle of ups and downs, except that this time, he couldn't just shut the door. He _couldn't_ just leave. Dib knew the only way to get rid of this new hell was to revisit the old one. There _was_ another way, of course, but he wanted to be fair to himself, because if he couldn't be, then no one else would.

Dib looked up at the harsh light of his computer screen. He would give anything to be able to focus right now. But fighting it right now just wasn't worth it.

But maybe it will be tomorrow.


End file.
